


Day 21. Oikawa Tooru Iwaizumi Hajime - Impact Play

by Falka_tyan



Series: Kinktober 2017 [14]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Historical, Forbidden Love, Hopeful Ending, How Do I Tag, It happens after the Industrial Revolution somewhere in Europe, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Master/Servant, Misunderstandings, Or so I do imagine, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 18:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falka_tyan/pseuds/Falka_tyan
Summary: This is a story about a rich noble Oikawa and his servant Iwaizumi. Both Oikawa and Iwaizumi are in love, but there is no way for them to be happy in the society they're living in. Or is there?(And also Oikawa whips Iwaizumi)





	Day 21. Oikawa Tooru Iwaizumi Hajime - Impact Play

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Last time I checked, it was 2018) but yeah, my Kinktober 2017 is a bit... chaotic?)  
> In my head, everything in this story happens between 1840 and 1900, but the timeline isn't of great relevance.  
> This fic has been prepared for Kinktober 2017 prompt, but I've had no time to finish it properly until now.
> 
> I hope you will enjoy!

The next stroke came out of the blue, just like the previous ten have. As usual, Hajime could never predict the pace with which Oikawa-san would strike during his punishments. However the boy tried, he couldn’t read the pattern of his master’s blows. Even if it was not like now, harsh and fast, but slow and thoughtful, Oikawa-san was always able to catch his personal servant off guard, causing him maximal pain. It was only a start, reminded Hajime himself. Only a start of a very long discipline session, he repeated inwardly, feeling his muscles strain and his legs beginning to quiver in an attempt to accept the pain from the next few strikes. Hajime gritted his teeth and endured the blows wordlessly, almost soundlessly. His master admired his ability to take pain from the very beginning of Hajime’s service, but Oikawa-san wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t turn every punishment into a challenge for Hajime.

 

Actually, his every day in this wealthy household under the command of this man was a new challenge. But it was good so. It was really good after what Hajime has been through. He had a purpose here; he had a person to live for. Now that Hajime has spent so much time here and learnt so much about Oikawa-san, he didn’t want his life to be any different, even if it wasn't ideal.

 

After his parents have died during a flood, eight-year-old Hajime has been taken in by an orphanage. It’s been a worthless, boring life where every day blended in with the others. The anonymous system has tried to suck him in. Hajime knew back then that he should be grateful for not being left to starve on the streets, but to whom? To the old, fat director, who thrived in his position with access to the orphanage’s funds? To the scary old lady, their overseer, who used to beat the kids with a wet cloth over their backs and rumps when they weren’t following her orders fast enough? The few slaps of moist linen couldn’t be particularly painful, but it’s been _mortifying_ for Hajime. The short whip Oikawa-san used was so much more honest; it brought Hajime pain, in the exact amounts his master wanted to, at the exact time his master wanted to. But it didn’t demean him, didn’t make him feel small and humiliated. It was punishment, and one that Hajime couldn’t endure without straining all of his willpower, all of his strength. For Hajime, it felt like his master was showing his respect by being so harsh on him; because he knew that Hajime was able to take the punishment he deserved without complaints.

 

His master never held back.

 

Every lash of the whip made Hajime tense and his breath hitch. It took all of his willpower to relax his muscles in preparation for every next strike. With Oikawa-san it was all about pain, of course; but Hajime would be lying if he said that there was no element of humiliation as well in what Oikawa-san did to him. Hajime’s naked body, thrown over the edge of Oikawa-san’s bed, a stark contrast to Oikawa-san’s fully clothed figure. The thick and firm couch pillow under his crotch, which not only lifted his defenceless ass higher in the air, making it a perfect aim for his master’s vicious blows, but was also positioned so that his cock and balls dangled from the edge of it, pointed downward, on display between Hajime’s legs. Oikawa-san has made it clear during Hajime’s first discipline session that this was the position he wanted him in: his most vulnerable parts at the mercy of his master. Oikawa-san has never touched Hajime there, has never let his whips as much as graze the sensitive skin oh his genitals. It was one more reason for Hajime to trust his master and one more way to show his utter submission.

 

Meanwhile, the strikes were becoming less bearable with every passing minute. It was all Hajime could do to avoid pained grunts and outcries. He would hold on, he was telling himself; he would not disappoint his master even more than he’s done today. The punished flesh of his ass and thighs were quivering with the effort to stay still and from the shock of the pain. Hajime could feel something wet slide down his right ass cheek; this must be a bead of blood where his skin couldn’t tolerate the heavy impact. He must’ve endured quite a long beating by that point in time, if he was bleeding. Not that Hajime expected his master to stop because of such minor disturbance, but he knew from experience that his skin started to bleed only under extreme pressure. That’s good, thought Hajime, I wouldn’t want him to go soft on me. He was trying to put on a brave face, of course. In truth, he didn’t know how much longer he could endure it; his stamina was wearing out. In these moments of weakness, Hajime wished he could ask his master to tie him down before a beating; this way he wouldn’t need to make conscious efforts to stay in position, to _behave_.

 

If only he could have behaved while they’ve been outside the mansion that day. He understood that Oikawa-san was allowing him certain freedoms, that their occasional bickering and Hajime’s blunt words addressed to his master were by no means a normal social pattern for a noble and his servant. Oikawa-san’s fellow nobles wouldn’t miss a chance to exploit Hajime’s master’s weakness if they knew about it. Not to be able to put a servant into place, what a shame! But Oikawa-san liked it that way; he liked the opportunity to take off his mask and act more naturally around Hajime; he liked Hajime’s raw honesty, the boldness with which the servant accentuated his master’s flaws – the way no one in this big house (and outside of it, except for Oikawa-san’s parents, maybe) would dare. Hajime’s loyalty and submission to Oikawa-san weren’t measured by how subservient he held himself. Hajime and his master didn’t need any outward signs to know who was in charge. Hajime would gladly die for his master; would fulfil his every whim without a word of complaint. But this knowledge was available for the two of them only; it wasn’t a thing Oikawa-san could show in the outside world.

 

Hajime was no fool; he knew the society they were living in all too well. There was no place for those who didn’t fall into the greater scheme. A noble should be relentless with his servants and demand utmost obedience. A servant should be respectful towards his master. And no servant should hiss at his mater in the middle of the street and twist his name in the most disgusting way. “Hey, Trashykawa-san,” has Hajime said, looking straight at his master, “why won’t you just buy that black horse? Or is it too plain for your fine tastes?” At daylight. Outside the Oikawas mansion. In a public place. Hajime was burning with shame recalling it now; he’s played with fire the whole day long and look, what it’s caused: he has forgotten himself and threatened Oikawa-san’s reputation. His master only had to narrow his eyes at him at that moment to make Hajime shut up completely and drop his head in despair.

 

When they’ve returned home, Oikawa-san has gone straight to his room on the third floor, Hajime following him. Once in the threshold, the beautiful brunet has come close to Hajime and tilted his chin up with his pointer finger, making Hajime meet his steely gaze. There was no anger, only annoyance and disappointment. Hajime could hardly keep himself from trembling, from falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness. Only the thought that he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to serve this wonderful man at all, let alone to plea to him for mercy, has stopped him from that. They’ve been definitely on the same page here, because his master has smiled at him his thin, cruel, all-knowing smile, which didn’t reach his eyes and said: “You’ve been such a disgrace, Hajime. We both know, you can do better. I don’t want to hear a word from you now. But you’re familiar with the drill; be ready for my return in ten minutes.”

 

Hajime has been ready in three. After excruciatingly slow seven minutes of waiting in position, his master has come in, holding his whip, and the punishment has begun.

 

So here he was, panting and straining, trembling and hurting, his ass covered in nasty welts and prickles of fresh blood, tears in his eyes, presenting his ass to his master’s merciless whip. When Hajime thought it was time for him to break, the blows stopped and his master’s taunting voice said: “That’s enough for your atonement, Hajime. Now get ready for your favourite part; my lashes have broken the skin surface and I need to disinfect your cuts”.

 

Hajime could only shudder at these words.

 

 

 

## …

Tooru licked his lips, looking at the boy, who was trembling like a leaf on the edge of his bed. If he was honest with himself, he wouldn’t ever be able to withstand soundlessly the number of lashes he has just given to his Hajime. But what did it matter, when he didn’t need to and Hajime was happy to comply? Maybe, not happy, but willing all the same. It wasn’t fair to Tooru’s servant, of course. A good boy like Hajime deserved to be treated with utmost respect, to be shown tenderness and love. But the fate was a vicious bitch. It's landed Hajime in Tooru’s possession and made the poor boy fall in love with his master.

 

Not much of a surprise, taking into account how hopelessly dreadful Hajime’s life has been until Tooru has taken him to his home when the boy has been sixteen. Tooru has been twenty-five at that time and lived alone in a big house full of servants, while his parents have left for the capital, to play politics and dance at balls. Tooru has been self-sufficient, successful and, subsequently, lonely. He also knew about his own perversions for a while already: that he preferred men, that he wanted his lovers to suffer at his hands. Good thing his parents didn’t insist that Tooru would get married. His elder siblings have provided enough matrimonial alliances to let the next generations of the Oikawa family flourish.

 

Tooru has decided back then that he could use a companion, someone, who could be more than just a hired worker; a person, whom Tooru could trust, a little. And exactly on the day when Tooru has decided to start looking for a personal servant, he’s had to take care of a business on the outskirts of their town. When he was returning home, he noticed Hajime, an unknown commoner at that point, working at a construction site. The thin boy was working as hard as the sturdy men beside him. Gritting his teeth, he powered his way through the woes his life was throwing at him. Hajime’s wordless, proud suffering made Tooru’s heart clench painfully in his chest, made his guts twist in a new kind of agony. Immediately Tooru knew: he wanted this boy to belong to him, he _needed_ this boy to be his. As a test, he’s offered Hajime a day-labour at his mansion for a moderate pay; the boy agreed not noticing the trap. And yet, from the very start, Tooru's attraction hasn't been one-sided. The next day the boy appeared at his house’s steps and was ready to fulfil Tooru’s orders. The whole day long, whenever they were near and he wasn’t looking straight at the boy, Tooru could feel Hajime’s mesmerized eyes on him: watching, admiring, appraising, saving into memory.

 

Tooru, as the mean person he was, made Hajime clean up the horse stalls. He wasn’t disappointed: neither in the way Hajime’s presence made him crave proximity with the little worker (the desire to own Hajime has become only more all-encompassing since the previous day) nor in the quality of his work. Tooru decided to find another horseman after he saw what Hajime has accomplished in the stalls by the end of the day. The boy looked exhausted, but content; could it be that he simply enjoyed a well done work? Then Hajime had at least something in common with Tooru.

 

After Tooru has inspected the clean stalls, he ordered Hajime to wash himself in the servants’ quarters and sent new clothes for him to wear after he was clean. Despite being a noble, Tooru wasn’t afraid of simple smells and he could've talked to Hajime when the latter was still sweaty and covered in dirt; but why not give the boy an opportunity to enjoy the feeling of being clean and dressed in fresh clothes if Tooru could afford this? After he was ready, Hajime came to his cabinet, smelling of soap and dressed in the same uniform the servants in Oikawa’s mansion wore. Tooru was pleased; his maids have taken good care of their (likely-to-be) new colleague. The boy seemed to be puzzled and guarded; maybe, he expected Tooru to try and molest him? The thought made Tooru frown; did he really appear like this kind of person? But, anyway, Hajime didn’t look afraid. That was a good sign.

 

Without stalling, Tooru offered the boy to become his personal servant. He’s been honest from the start and explained that if Hajime was going to work for him, he would demand utmost obedience. Tooru’s told Hajime that he would be subjected to a harsh corporal punishment every time he would fail to obey Tooru’s rules and orders. The boy took his time contemplating Tooru’s words. After several long minutes, he met Tooru’s gaze, and his eyes were shining with a sort of mad hope which made Tooru freeze for a second. He’s never seen somebody as breathtakingly beautiful as this over-worked, gangly boy with unruly hair, who didn’t dare to imagine that his life could change for the better. Tooru swore to himself that, if the boy would agree to entrust himself to Tooru, he will do everything in his power to make him feel safe, respected and needed. If the boy would be able to get used to Tooru’s rules, that was. Tooru was a chaotic creature, after all; without imposing rules, on himself and others, he wouldn’t be able to rein his natural desire to play with other people’s feelings, the desire to own, and hurt, and humiliate… But Tooru has chosen to be a different man. His desires still needed an outlet, unfortunately.

 

And Hajime happened to be ready to provide such outlet. After Tooru has gained the boy’s trust, there were few things Hajime wouldn’t do for him. Tooru punished him severely for every minor infraction and, instead of growing distant or holding a grudge against Tooru, Hajime just strived to perfection with all his might. After a year of Hajime’s service, Tooru has found out that he’s outwitted himself here: by making Hajime believe he wanted nothing but excellent behaviour from him, he’s reduced the opportunities to enjoy the process of disciplining his boy, since Hajime has soon learned how to please Tooru and how to obey his commands without a failure.

 

Two more years have passed, and Hajime’s become muscular where he’s been skinny; attractive when he’s been shaggy. He bore himself with more dignity now, making Tooru’s perverted mind wish to wipe away this calm expression from his servant’s face; to strip him bare and make him moan and whine in the most depraved manner.

 

Tooru was so grateful that Hajime has bad-mouthed him in public today; so grateful for having him naked, bruised and vulnerable in front of him. The wavy-haired brunet was so hard in his fancy, stupid pants that it was ridiculous. He was sure that Hajime would agree to get fucked by him easily; he was somehow sure that the boy was craving the same thing as Tooru. But Tooru couldn’t ask directly; not when he was in the position of power. If Hajime would ever let Tooru fuck him just because Tooru was his master, this would be the end of Tooru’s self-respect. He couldn’t risk a misunderstanding in such a crucial matter; so he resigned to wait. He would wait as much as he would need to: until Hajime would admit to himself that he lusted after his patron; that in the darkness of his tiny room he dreamt of Tooru’s touch; that he needed to be intimate with Tooru just as much as Tooru needed to be intimate with Hajime. Tooru would wait. Until Hajime would be hardly able to hide the craving in his gaze; until his desire would drive him to Tooru.

 

Tooru let his mind wander. Oh, how lovely would it be when Hajime would finally realize his needs. He would suffer, and feel guilty, and be ashamed, but… When the desire would override everything else, Hajime would come to Tooru, and he would _beg_. Despite all Tooru’s rules about taking what’s given to him and refraining from asking for mercy, for anything at all, Hajime would beg Tooru to touch him, to fuck him, to use him any way Tooru wants. His stubborn, prideful boy would look so pretty on his knees in front of Tooru. And after his boy has begged enough, Tooru would laugh in his face and refuse him. He would tell Hajime that Hajime doesn’t even know what he’s asking for; that he couldn’t possibly realize what Tooru may want to do to him. That he is silly and young, that he is naïve and careless to offer himself like that to a powerful man like Tooru Oikawa. Of course, after that Hajime would only beg more desperately…

 

Tooru shook his head to come back to reality. He could stand here and watch his prey, lying still in front of him and waiting for his further commands, on and on. Instead, Tooru got hold of himself, found his little bottle with alcohol and a clean cloth. “Hajime, I will disinfect your cuts now, don’t move,” warned Tooru and started the new round of torture. The first touch of stinging liquid must’ve been excruciating, because his stoic Hajime has outright _whimpered_. That was a nice sound, decided Tooru. It was a pity that Hajime seemed to gain control over his voice again since the whimpering hasn’t repeated. After the disinfection came the time for applying a healing ointment, and now Hajime nearly melted under Tooru’s skilful hands. Tooru let himself enjoy the process of massaging the cream into Hajime’s raw ass-cheeks and buttocks. Who knows when the time for the next punishment would come? To have a relaxed, content, sleepy Hajime so close was a miracle in itself.

 

And again, his train of thought brought Tooru far away from his mundane occupation and to the sphere of subtle and evanescent.

 

Whatever the matter was, Tooru was always honest with himself. He knew that his feelings towards Hajime didn’t concentrate around lust and desire to cause pain. He knew what it was.

 

He loved Hajime.

 

What would Tooru do to be able to stay with his beloved? A lot, probably. He couldn’t afford to lose his name and status, though. Too many people depended on him and his actions: his business partners, his servants, the workers of his family’s fabric located in the town. The kids in the orphanage where Hajime’s grown up. A memory made Tooru smile. When Hajime has heard for the first time, whose money allowed him to have a relatively safe childhood after his parents’ death, he looked so awe-struck that Tooru didn’t know how to act. It was as if he’s earned more points in Hajime’s eyes though he himself was merely supervising the organisation grounded by his eldest sister.

 

Hajime, in the meantime, has fallen asleep under Tooru’s deft hands. What a trusting, reckless boy he’s raised. Tooru resisted the wish to let Hajime sleep in his bed, and ordered to bring him a sleeping mattress. He’s explained to the maid that Hajime has taken a severe beating and he didn’t want to make him walk to his room until morning. The woman looked very sympathetic when she’s heard about the discipline Hajime has had to withstand. But, before going back to work, she bowed deeply to Tooru and whispered: “Thank you for taking care of him, master,” and slipped away, leaving the puzzled Tooru at the threshold of his room.

 

Tooru was very cautious while positioning the exhausted boy on the mattress on the floor. Hajime looked so bashful, so young in his sleep. It required all the will Tooru possessed to overpower the urge to kiss the boy.

 

Tooru made it to his own bed and sat there, clenching and unclenching his fists.

 

Hajime. His Hajime. Lying not two meters away from Tooru, in Tooru’s room.

 

And Tooru couldn’t allow himself to touch him.

 

And again, in an attempt to hide from the harsh reality, Tooru gave way for his fantasy to picture a better variant of his life. What if it would go backwards, their first intimate encounter with Hajime? What if the boy would just forget about their roles, blinded by his passion? Tooru has nearly moaned at the thought. Being pinned to a wall by Hajime’s strong hands, being manhandled to the bed by his most trusted servant… Stripped from his robes, kissed violently, then fucked without mercy… Tooru couldn’t suppress a whimper this time. Getting fucked by Hajime could be so, so good; maybe, even better than being allowed to fuck Hajime…

 

When Tooru awoke the next morning, his room was empty and free from the remnants of Hajime’s short stay. Tooru clutched his head in his hands; he’s missed everything! He wanted to be there when Hajime would be waking up, wanted to use the chance to admire his beloved one in his sleep once more; he didn’t have any other opportunities to have this kind of moments with Hajime, did he? Tooru also wanted to explain him, that he’s done nothing wrong by falling asleep during the aftercare. Tooru groaned in frustration. His boy may be so embarrassed now; or, perhaps, annoyed? Or even angry at Tooru? Some creepy fears reared their ugly heads in Tooru’s thoughts. What if in reality, Hajime hated Tooru with all his heart?... And again, by the mere willpower, Tooru’s made himself stay where he was instead of running to Hajime’s room and asking the boy to convey his true feelings.

 

 

 

 

## …

Hajime has been unable to stop crying since he's returned hastily to his tiny room on the first floor. He felt so raw, inside and out. His master has been so kind to him yesterday after Hajime’s endured the well-deserved discipline session. How could he have let himself fall asleep in his master’s room? The place was sacred; there was no reason to let someone like Hajime linger there, let alone stay the night.

 

And yet, Hajime should be grateful for such a one-time occasion.

 

Hajime has woken up at the crack of dawn and spent at least an hour watching his master sleep. It’s been a gift from gods; he wasn’t ever allowed this much time to just _look._ When entranced Hajime admired Oikawa-san’s long lashes, a slight noise from the outside has startled him. Pulled out of his reverie, Hajime hurried up to clean up the room as soundlessly as he could and vanish.

 

He came back to his own room and started to cry.

 

He’s never been much of a crier, but today wasn’t a usual day either. Hajime has finally realised the extent of his infatuation with his noble master. It wasn’t just admiration of a loyal servant; it was so much more. He wanted to be owned by this man, even more than he was now. He wanted to give himself to him completely, body and soul. The thoughts made Hajime shake his head in shame; how could he possibly dare to think that way about his master? Then he remembered those moments of deep slumber between dream and reality, when he was falling asleep or waking up, where he’s allowed himself to imagine Oikawa-san’s hands on him, Oikawa-san’s cruel voice telling him to obey, Oikawa-san’s lips on his… He was the most unappreciative and depraved man in the whole world.

 

Hajime’s agony has been interrupted by the butler’s voice calling him to Oikawa-san. That was it. Oikawa-san would tell him he’s noticed him staring at his sleeping figure. He would tell Hajime to leave immediately. Hajime knew he deserved it; but his mind couldn’t grasp it. His limbs felt like jelly when he was getting dressed and climbing up the stairs to the master bedroom. Stupid, stupid boy, he cursed himself. Ruining the only good thing his life had to offer.

 

When he came in though, his master looked as calm and collected as ever. He was standing at a far wall and organizing his books on a shelf. There were no signs of anger or disgust on his face when he turned to Hajime. The boy lowered his eyes quickly. His thoughts and feelings were in such disarray he didn’t dare to look Oikawa-san in the eye. Hajime felt he should confess his sinful thoughts and get thrown away. But, the coward he was, he couldn’t make himself do so. Even like that, forcing his way through pain and humiliation of a constant heartbreak, through regret and shame, he would be happier at Oikawa-san’s side than he could ever be away from him.

 

 

 

 

##  …

Tooru was studying the contents of his bookshelf, from the lack of a better thing to quench his nervousness while expecting Hajime’s arrival.

 

When Tooru saw Hajime entering his room and casting his eyes down, Tooru thought his heart might break there and then. Hajime has never shied away from eye-contact with him before. As if there wasn’t any trust established between them, as if the three years haven’t been spent together, side by side. The sight of Hajime standing stiffly at the door was physically painful. Was it Tooru’s punishment for his sadistic cruelty? Has Tooru been too reckless yesterday (and all the times before)? Has he allowed his inner beast too much? Several long seconds have passed until finally Hajime broke the silence and addressed his patron, the usual way, but in a foreign, listless tone Tooru wasn’t familiar with. Tooru felt so out of his depth he wanted to strangle himself. “Master,” Hajime said and stopped. What? Didn’t he have anything else to say? Wouldn’t he at least ask Tooru how his sleep was? Wouldn’t he finally look up at Tooru?

 

Unexpectedly for himself, Tooru found out that his body was shaking. He wanted to get back to bed and curl in on himself. He wanted to hide. He wanted to never see this side of Hajime in his life. He wanted to go back in time and never ever hurt Hajime, never ever humiliate him. Anything to return back to the time when they could talk normally…

 

Tooru came back to his senses to Hajime’s begging. He was lying on his side on the floor, his own hands clutching at his hair, and Hajime’s hands were trying, fruitlessly, to make his grip unclench. After a second or two of just listening to Hajime’s voice, Tooru started distinguishing the words; slowly, but surely, their sense started to snake into his head.

 

“…please, master, please, come back to me. Was it me? What have I done? Please, master, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! Master, beat me to death later, but wake up, please! Oh my god, oh my god, should I call for help? I’m an idiot! What if you need a doctor?”

 

When Hajime made a move to stand up, Tooru was already coherent enough to untangle his right hand from his curls and grasp weakly at Hajime’s leg. Hajime stopped right away; he breathed out with relief first and then proceeded with his exaggerated apologies. Tooru was too weak after his meltdown to stop his ranting. He was only able to point weakly at his bed, after which Hajime has gingerly lifted him and brought there in a bridal carry. After Tooru has been lowered on the covers, he muttered hoarsely: “You, here”. Miraculously, the boy didn’t argue or hesitate and climbed onto the bed, laying himself beside Tooru.

 

They’ve stayed like that for some time, ten minutes, maybe more, lying on opposite sides of Tooru’s big bed, Hajime stubbornly ensuring there was a polite distance between them. Eventually, Tooru came back to himself. Or, not exactly to himself. Because the person who threw himself at Hajime, latched on his shirt and held on for dear life, choking on the stream of words which were tumbling out of his mouth, was definitely not the same person as Tooru from an hour before.

 

Tooru has told him everything, all the things which made him want to crawl up the wall; how he was a monster, how he was the worst person in existence, how he’s never been brave enough to be kinder to Hajime, afraid to produce rumours, to ruin their lives… How he’s been in love with Hajime from the first time he saw him - working hard at a construction site, tired, covered in dirt and underfed, but not subdued. How he’s used Hajime to fulfil his selfish and abhorrent wishes. Tooru couldn’t think, couldn’t stop the whirlwind of confessions even if he tried to. He just needed this all to be out in the open. Finally, when he began to repeat himself, Tooru made a pause to gain his breath and realised the position they were in: Hajime on his back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, Tooru on his side, embraced and supported by Hajime’s strong arms.

 

While Tooru was deciding, whether he could faint and save himself the embarrassment, or that he should just flee through the window, Hajime hugged him a little tighter, excluding the second variant, and muttered: “You don’t think about collapsing on me and pretending you haven’t told me anything, now do you, Oikawa-san?”

 

And here Tooru thought his body has forgotten how to blush when he’s been twelve.

 

The hapless noble tried to hide his face in his hands, but to no avail: strong hands caught his wrists, rendering him immobile; it turned out, Hajime has grown up a much stronger person than Tooru. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really, taking into account how many times Tooru has witnessed Hajime doing hard manual labour with ease. But to feel this strength applied _directly_ to him was a new experience altogether. Anyway, the wish to hide only grew, and Tooru shut his eyes tight. The next moment he heard Hajime asking him gently, almost reverently: “Oikawa-san, please, look at me,” and Tooru couldn’t do anything else as to lift his head and look his boy in the eyes. Again, there was this desperate hope, some part of disbelief, some part of…tenderness? When the eye-contact was finally established, Hajime said evenly: “I love you, Oikawa-san. I have loved you for as long as I’ve worked here, I think; yet I’ve understood the nature of my feelings to you only today in the morning.” Tooru was so overwhelmed with the news that he felt numb and uncomprehending. Meanwhile, Hajime took a deep breath, preparing to tell the rest, let go of Tooru’s wrists and started to narrate his own story. There was logic in it, by contrast with Tooru’s verbal incontinence. In the end, Hajime explained the reason for his strange behaviour: he was getting ready to get fired because of his inappropriate thoughts and couldn’t find the strength to accept it. Tooru couldn’t suppress his hysterical laughter. Oh god. What could Hajime possibly know about inappropriate thoughts compared to his master? Tooru laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Hajime was very displeased with his childishness, he was shaking Tooru like a sack in attempt to stop his fit of laughter, but still, Tooru ended up crying-laughing until his head began to hurt. He stilled beside his servant and wiped his tears with his sleeve.

 

“What was so funny, Dummykawa-san?”

 

The familiar insult made Tooru perk up and start pouting. No matter how often he heard these stupid nicknames, they made him sulk. This time, though, it was what he needed to go down from the high of his hysterics, to become serious again. Hajime felt the change in the mood, so he let Tooru sit up on the bed and scoot to the headboard to position himself beside his servant. Sitting side by side didn’t feel strange or out of place. Tooru realised he’s wanted their relationship to be like that all along, right from the start. He wanted Hajime’s submission as passionately as before, but he also wanted to be able to talk to him normally, to forget the protocol, to forget about his title and simply enjoy his beloved’s presence. So many contradictions. Was it even possible to turn these wishes of him into reality?

 

Tooru noticed that he’s fallen into a reverie and pinched his own wrist painfully to gain focus again. This day was emotionally too heavy loaded, and to Tooru it seemed that a week at least has passed from the moment Hajime has fallen asleep on the edge of Tooru’s bed, whipped bloody and lulled to rest by Tooru’s careful massage. The memory made Tooru nearly jump on the bed.

 

“Your butt, Hajime? It must hurt; I’m so sorry, I’m…”

 

Tooru babbled on and on, until Hajime almost growled in frustration.

 

“I’m fine, you! Do you really think I’m as tender as you are? After all the beatings you’ve given me through the years? Now you’ve decided to worry about my poor spanked ass? It’s all black and blue, thank you very much, but I can live with that.”

 

Tooru wanted to contradict, to remind, how horrible he was, but Hajime stopped him with a rough hand on Tooru’s mouth.

 

“If you ever call yourself a monster again, I don’t know what I will do to you,” the servant warned.

 

Tooru bit his hand.

 

After this petty gesture something changed in Hajime’s face; his expression became…predatory?

 

In an instant Hajime was atop of Tooru, pinning him to the bed, looking down on him. Tooru’s breath hitched. He could feel arousal pooling inside him, flooding his senses. To hell with everything, he needed to touch his boy. Today, now, this very instant. Suddenly, Tooru’s self-confidence was back. The meltdown and the heartfelt moment were over; he was his usual arrogant self again. It seemed, Hajime wanted him just as much as he wanted him. That’s a good thing to know. And, from the looks of it, Tooru’s haughtiness may annoy his servant more than he’s ever let it show. Doesn't mean Tooru would give him the reins now. Tooru could feel how his own facial features became steely and cold. The boy could play with fire as much as he dared to; hopefully, he wouldn’t mind when the same fire would lick his body, leaving burns.

 

Tooru let a small smirk play on his lips. He looked back at Hajime, calmly. Despite being the weakest of the two, Tooru didn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. This was his boy, his Hajime, and if there was something or someone in the world that belonged to Tooru, it was Hajime. Tooru saw his servant getting restless little by little; the impulse to physically overpower Tooru has worn off almost as quickly as it has risen, and Hajime found himself at a loss of what to do next. Tooru let him wallow in indecisiveness, self-doubt, until the grip on his shoulders eased until Hajime’s eyes grew wide and frantic. What a silly, naïve boy. He looked so vulnerable like that. Just the way Tooru liked him.

 

“Stay where you are, boy,” ordered Tooru as Hajime made a move to crawl off of him. “You’ve captured me with such a determination that for a second I’ve thought you would go all the way”.

 

Now Hajime looked outright frightened. That was a nice look on him, decided Tooru. His beloved boy was scared of his own actions and was at a loss what to do next. Good that he had Tooru to guide him. Tooru reminded himself that, despite all Hajime’s heated words, he _was a monster indeed_ and should be careful with his most precious possession. Tooru smiled milder, let the smile reach his eyes. He’ll be careful. He won’t forget himself. He will prove himself that he is worthy of being in charge of Hajime; of being in charge of their whole…relationship thing? Whatever. To hell with the doubts, Tooru was the richest noble in the region; if someone was allowed to play by his own rules, it was him. He’ll just have to make some renovations at the house to arrange a room for Hajime next to his bedroom and watch the staff working at the mansion more closely to prevent any kind of mutiny and unacceptable rumours.

 

Hajime will belong to him, body, soul and mind. Should’ve belonged to him since long ago.

 

Tooru feigned a deep sigh. Hajime shuddered; the servant knew him so well already. Tooru’s theatrics could only mean that he won’t be too kind to his boy.

 

The noble hummed lazily and started to talk in a mockingly bored tone:

 

“Hajime, dear, I know I can be a little annoying sometimes; but is it a reason enough to force yourself on your master like you did?”

 

With a visible effort, Hajime made himself follow the order to stay in place instead of jumping off Tooru and begging for forgiveness how he wanted to. Such a good boy. His ass wouldn’t survive another whipping so soon. Tooru continued his teasing:

 

“What would you even do to me? Hajime, my boy, would you rip my clothes off? Would you bite my tender skin, leaving marks? Would you impale my willing body on your hard member?”

 

Another shudder ran through Hajime; this time not a sign of fear, but a sign of lust. Hajime was frozen atop Tooru, barely breathing. Tooru could understand him very well; it was their mutual dream coming true, after all. Not that Hajime needed to know how excited (and nervous) Tooru was. Tooru could hardly suppress the urge of lifting his hips up and grinding against Hajime’s rear. However, whether Tooru was dying from arousal or not, Hajime had to suffer a bit more for his little rebellion.

 

“Maybe, one day I’ll let you do exactly that: take me hard and fast, hold me down; enjoy my luscious body however you want it.”

 

Hajime’s eyes were glazed over, and his breathing came in little pants. He looked so, so good like this: horny and desperate, but completely under Tooru’s power. Tooru decided he’s waited enough; he couldn’t tease much more since he was teasing both of them simultaneously.

 

“I think I know what your real wish is today. You want to give yourself over to me, completely. You want to be finally claimed by your master.”

 

Hajime’s expression changed to something close to awe at how good his master knew him, and Tooru resumed his smooth talk:

 

“You want me to own you, to take what’s mine without hesitation. Actually, I was willing to do this to you, but after you’ve acted so recklessly I have my doubts. I guess you’ll have to wait.”

 

Hajime looked like a kicked puppy after the last phrase; if he didn’t want to believe Tooru was a monster, here was his penalty for that. Poor boy, to be the object of Tooru’s games. Tooru pretended to contemplate his next actions.

 

“Or, maybe, I will make an exception this time. I won’t own you as I’m supposed to, but we’ll do the next best thing. What do you say?”

 

Hajime sounded strangled when he whispered hoarsely:

 

“Please, master, I beg you. Anything you want. I won’t disobey you again.”

 

Tooru hummed cheerfully.

 

“But of course you won’t, my boy. I know you’re better than that. As usual, I will set the rules first. Right, Hajime?”

 

Hajime’s muttered confirmation allowed Tooru to continue:

 

“If you want us to become lovers, Hajime, I want you to implicitly obey the rules I will invent for you. Is it clear?”

 

A whispered “Yes, master” from Hajime.

 

“Good boy,” praised Tooru. “What we do now, will be our first time; it won’t count. But after that… I want you to do everything as I say, whether we are together or not. I will regulate your personal life as well now. In bed, you will follow my instructions to the letter. I won’t forbid you to pleasure yourself at all while alone, though I will sometimes revoke your privilege to touch yourself. Be it a punishment or my whim, you will obey. Do you agree with the rules so far, Hajime?”

 

This time the agreement was passionate and loud. What an eager boy.

 

“Do you want to please me, my dear?”

 

A hint of doubt darkened Hajime’s handsome face.

 

“Don’t worry, Hajime, I’ll teach you everything you need to know to seduce me. Do you want to learn, my boy?”

 

As expected, an enthusiastic consent on the servant’s part. Come to think of it, Hajime should definitely feel strange in such a position: still holding Tooru down, after he’s completely fallen under Tooru’s spell. The boy looked so vulnerable now, so trusting.

 

“I love you, Hajime,” breathed Tooru.

 

“I love you, Oikawa-san,” muttered Hajime, and blushed.

 

That won’t do. These “masters” and “Oikawa-sans” happened to be such a turn-off.

 

“There’s one more new rule: in the bedroom, you will call me Tooru. You are not allowed to use my given name at other times though. Will you be able not to mix it up, boy?” Hajime gave a short nod. “That’s what I thought.”

 

Hajime looked close to tears. Let him cry if he wants to. Though in Tooru’s opinion, he himself has cried enough for the two of them today, that’s why he‘d prefer not to get distracted with additional crying. Now that he and Hajime have bared their souls to each other, and Tooru has decided to allow them to become something more than just a noble and his servant, they had _a lot_ of much nicer things to do than bawling their eyes out.

 

Tooru waved his hand, and Hajime scooted back a little. Tooru will finally let his boy enjoy himself; Hajime couldn’t foresee the treat he was about to get. With a lazy gesture, Tooru indicated at his body: “I think it’s better for you to see with your own eyes what a sexual intercourse between two men looks like before you bottom. You’re a virgin, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I know, there’s no need to get shy about it. I’m not that pure anymore, thankfully. Oh, don’t look at me with so much jealousy in your pretty dark eyes.” Tooru leaned closer to his soon-to-be lover and caressed Hajime’s jaw tenderly with his fingers, letting the boy lean into his touch. “Now that I have you, I won’t ever need anyone else.”

 

Tooru felt himself swoon with all the emotions that were swelling in his chest. He didn’t allow the feeling to sway him, though. He’s waited for this day three long years.

 

Tooru pulled his hand back from Hajime’s face, put his arms on the pillow above his head and arched his back slightly.

 

“Now undress me, Hajime.”

## …

With trembling fingers, Hajime started to peel numerous intricate covers off from his master’s body. Unlike many other nobles Hajime has seen, Oikawa-san never used his servants’ help in mundane tasks such as getting dressed. It was partly because he couldn’t trust anyone else with his appearance of his perfectionism, partly because he didn’t like to burden his subordinates with tasks he could easily perform himself (which was one of the many reasons the servants were so fond of their master). This being said, Hajime has never served Oikawa-san in this capacity before.

 

The other difficulty was that for Hajime his master’s body has always been a forbidden treasure. If not for his master’s order, Hajime wouldn’t be able to make himself touch a button on his shirt. Every time he took another garment off and left a new part of Oikawa-san’s body naked, it felt like a kind of sacrilege. When the whole upper body was free of clothes, Hajime helped Oikawa-san to shimmy out of his trousers and underpants. Hajime tried to concentrate on the task and not on how mesmerizing every part of Oikawa-san’s frame was: how well-shaped and proportionate every limb and every curve appeared to be; how smooth and tender to touch his skin felt; how languidly lean muscles rolled under his palms. It wasn’t easy, but still, soon Hajime found himself at a loss of words at the sight of Oikawa-san lounging leisurely on the bed with his back at the headboard, arms held beside his head and his long, flawless legs bent at the knees and parted, leaving all his private parts on display.

 

All Hajime could do was stare, spellbound. How was it possible to be such a perfection from head to toe… from luscious ass cheeks to the tip of the cock? Apparently, his master liked Hajime’s reaction. He looked as pleased as the cat who has stolen the cream, lying there and grinning at Hajime smugly. It was actually rare to see Oikawa-san as happy and carefree, and Hajime couldn’t tear his eyes from him. Would it happen more often now that they are…? Lovers? Or…

 

Oikawa-san’s lilting voice caught Hajime’s attention (and made him blush even more, if that was possible):

 

“Will you undress, dear? It may be useful in the end”.

 

Hastily, Hajime took his shirt and pants off. There was no hint of gracefulness Oikawa-san possessed in his movements, even if his clothes were not nearly as complicated as his master’s. He was so… clumsy when he wasn’t busy with his usual work. Hajime tried to calm his racing mind telling himself that his master knew exactly who he was going to see naked and that his sudden fear of being rejected in the end was baseless.

 

New challenges expected him, though. While he was busy undressing, Oikawa-san has produced a small glass bottle with a clear liquid in it. He smirked at the questioning look from his servant, idly twirling the bottle in his hands.

 

“Don’t be afraid, Hajime. It’s a special oil for men like us. Makes wonderful things possible,” teased Oikawa-san in a playful voice. And then he winked at Hajime, making the latter sputter.

 

This was so embarrassing. And yet undeniably thrilling at the same time.

 

Hajime couldn’t wait to lay his hands on his master’s body again and was afraid to death of it at the same time. Will he even be allowed to…? Oikawa-san hasn’t specified what they’ll do next. He may order Hajime to keep his hands to himself and make him watch while his noble master gets off. He may let Hajime touch himself, make Hajime stroke himself almost to completion and then forbid him to come. He may…

 

“What kind of thoughts make your dick twitch like that, Hajime? They must be _filthy_ ,” crooned Oikawa-san, slicking his fingers with the oil. Hajime felt his face burning. He didn’t want his master to guess _what images exactly_ made him harder. Or did he want it…? It was not easy to tell in the haze of new discoveries and the unexpected closeness they’ve brought.

 

Hajime opened his mouth to apologize for zoning out, but could only moan, witnessing how his master’s slender index finger prodded at his puckered entrance, teased it before slowly entering. How could this man be so beautiful and perfect and, honestly, too good for words even in his current position, showing hidden parts of himself to another man? How could he be so self-assured even at his most vulnerable?..

 

Meanwhile, Oikawa-san pumped his finger in and out several times, his brows scrunched up in concentration, before looking up at stunned Hajime and pronouncing sternly:

 

“Memorize it, boy. You’ll have to do it to yourself so very soon.” Then he added, with a note of mocking: “Or have you tried this already? Put your thick fingers into your tight little hole and played with yourself, hmm?”

 

While Hajime stuttered through his answer (but of course he hasn’t ever done such thing), one finger became two, and Oikawa-san started pouting slightly.

 

“It’s been a long time,” he complained distractedly.

 

After this line, Hajime itched with the urge to ask who has been Oikawa-san’s last lover, in what position have they done it, how long ago it has happened… But he knew better than to address it. Rudeness and invasiveness of such an action aside, he’ll be better off without this knowledge. Oikawa-san has promised to never take interest in another man. Hajime will trust him with this, as he already trusted his master with everything.

 

It turned out, Oikawa-san trusted him as well. Why would he otherwise let Hajime see him like this, spread-legged and dishevelled? The realisation filled Hajime with warmth. He was not alone in this exploration; he wasn’t the only one taking a huge step towards uncertainty.

 

This whole experience felt like a dream. And yet, it wasn’t one: just in front of him, Oikawa-san, in flesh, was biting his plump bottom lip in an attempt to stifle his whimpers.

 

“Oik… Tooru,” tried Hajime. The name tasted strange on his tongue; like a forbidden fruit brought from a far-away land which has landed into Hajime’s hands by mistake and turned out to be the most delicious thing ever.

 

At the sound of his given name Oikawa-san released his lip from the grip of his teeth and outright moaned, letting his head fall onto the pillow behind his back. He continued stretching himself, finally letting out all the pretty sounds he made. God, did he sound lovely to Hajime’s ears. When Oikawa-san lifted his head again after several minutes of working his fingers in and out of his body, his eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed over. He looked wrecked and needy, although it didn’t make him any less beautiful to Hajime’s eyes.

 

“Talk to me, Hajime,” pleaded Oikawa-san gently, “Call my name again”.

 

That Hajime could do. That Hajime would do over and over again until death would take him.

 

“Tooru,” whispered Hajime reverently. “Tooru”.

 

His master whined loudly at that and let his eyes fall closed again under the onslaught of sensations.

 

Hajime didn’t dare to move from his spot, but, once he’s started, he couldn’t stop showering his master in praise:

 

“Tooru, you are so gorgeous. So beautiful. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re perfect. I can’t find anything in you that wouldn’t make me want to fall to my knees and worship you.”

 

After the last phrase Oikawa-san opened his eyes slightly. At some moment two fingers became three without Hajime noticing. Despite his obvious arousal, Oikawa-san wasn’t as lost in his pleasure as Hajime has assumed. The unusual gentleness from before was gone. His gaze held the same level of intensiveness Hajime was used to; the same kind of concentration that made Hajime feel like a beetle about to be dissected. Strangely, the feeling made him relax and forget his insecurities. Everything in their current situation was brand new, but, at the same time, nothing has changed: Hajime belonged to Oikawa-san and would follow his every word. As always, he was a slave to Oikawa-san’s will.

 

“That’s what you want, boy? Worship me?” his master inquired, out of breath, but still as commanding as ever.

 

“Yes, Tooru.”

 

“Then do it. Your cock looks excited down there. Maybe, if you use it right you’ll be able to show me a sliver of your admiration.”

 

Hajime gulped.

 

Oikawa-san withdrew his fingers from his arse completely and let his legs fall open on the bed obscenely. His eyes were smouldering with heat, and Hajime could hardly breathe at the sight of him. This man was pure perfection.

 

He will rub his knees bloody worshipping his master if this would be to his liking.

 

He will give himself over to his master, body and soul, and provide everything and anything his master will ever ask for.

 

He will happily take whatever his master would be willing to give him.

 

“Come here and fuck me nice and slow, Hajime. Please me.”

 

“Yes, Tooru.”

 

## …

Tooru couldn’t believe how good his name sounded from Hajime’s lips. He could listen to it all night long. He’s never let himself dream about Hajime calling him by his given name, let alone imagine a situation where Hajime would do so in reality. This whole experience felt surreal.

 

With careful touches, little suggestions and approving mutters, Tooru helped Hajime position his cock at his entrance and start to push in. Despite acting all calm and in control, Tooru was nearly delirious with need. He hasn’t been fucked in a long, long time. Since he’s brought Hajime to his house, his occasional hook-ups have become rare. Although he knew he could never have the boy he loved, could never be together with him, giving access to his body to some stranger (or worse, an acquaintance) felt like a betrayal every single time he’s tried it. God forsake his corporal needs.

 

Tooru never let Hajime pause to overthink his actions, guiding him through the process, giving small commands and recommendations, literally teaching his servant how to service him in the best way to quench this special desire of his. And oh, was Hajime an eager learner; just like always – so perceptive, so attuned to his master – a true gem.

 

Finally, finally, after a lot of coaxing, Hajime sheathed his member in Tooru’s pliant hole. Something about being filled with Hajime’s cock felt just right, as if a piece of a puzzle that’s went missing a long time ago has been finally put into place. The physical pleasure was there, of course, but it wasn’t the most important thing. What mattered the most was the look of devotion and unconditioned love in Hajime’s eyes, the reverence with which he held onto Tooru’s body. At one point, Tooru has given last rushed instructions and let go completely.

 

He may or may not have been babbling Hajime’s name and “I love you”-s interspersed with pleas of going harder or faster all the time Hajime rocked his hips into him.

 

He may or may not have screamed when Hajime hit his prostate after accidentally angling his cock just right, making his inexperienced lover go rigid with worry.

 

He may or may not have begged Hajime to kiss him on the lips (again and again).

 

The whole experience was so wonderful and magical, all the while staying as natural and easy as breathing. As if they were meant to be tangled up together, warm and close. As if this moment belonged to eternity, not to their fragile human lives.

 

The bliss went on and on, and then it stopped. Tooru opened his eyes and found himself lying under his comforter, clean and dressed in fresh underpants, with Hajime sleeping by his side. His precious boy was lying on his side facing Tooru, naked, but still not daring to share the covers with his master.

 

Hajime always looked more relaxed in his sleep, but this time there was something serene about his expression: as if he has been struggling for a long time and now has, at last, reached his destination, so there was nothing more to worry about for him.

 

Tooru swore that he will do his hardest to become a person worth at least a sliver of the awe Hajime was gifting him with.

 

 

## …

Hajime woke up at the feeling of Oikawa-san’s hands on his tired body, covering him with a comforter and ruffling his hair tenderly. Then his master snuggled to his chest like an overgrown cat and was out like a light.

 

Behind the window, dusk was falling over the mansion’s courtyard. They’ve spent quite a lot of time here together. What would the other servants think?...

 

Hajime let his mind drift off of this thought first. It was for Oikawa-san to worry about; honestly, Hajime couldn’t care less about what other people would say. On the other hand, Oikawa-san’s reputation was at stake here which he couldn’t ignore. To do the right thing, Hajime should leave the bed right now, come up with some veritable reason to stay late in his master’s rooms and a task supposedly received from him. But when he made a move to sit up on the bed, Oikawa-san’s arms closed around his waist possessively, trapping him in place. Hajime stiffened for a second or two, weighing his options. Actually, there was only one: despite his good intentions, he couldn’t make himself bother his sleeping lover, so he had to stay. Hajime sighed in resignation and made himself comfortable. He didn’t try to pretend that he wasn’t happy to be where he was and let the residual high from their lovemaking fill his mind.

 

Lovers. They were lovers now. An unstoppable happy grin crawled onto Hajime’s face.

 

The next second, though, he found himself flushing at the memories. He was not embarrassed because of losing his virginity or having sex with another man, far from it. But the intimacy of their evening together brought something very special from his psyche out onto the surface. Hajime closed his eyes and let his memories flood his conscience, intending to keep them all close to his heart.

 

Hajime recalled how attentive and tender Oikawa-san has been, despite pretending to care about his own pleasure only. Heat rushed through Hajime as he thought about Oikawa-san’s voice demanding he takes him harder, fucks him deeper, threatening to never let Hajime come again if he dared coming before satisfying his master. His cock twitched where it was buried under the covers now, and Hajime considered earnestly whether he was allowed to jerk off today or not. Oikawa-san has said he would specify the times when Hajime was prohibited to touch himself and he hasn‘t mentioned anything about it, but Hajime wouldn’t take the risk of finishing himself off to find out that his master has meant it differently or has changed his mind. Hajime sighed again. He was unable to go for it even if he would’ve been reckless enough to try and take himself in hand, as he was securely held in place by Oikawa-san’s death grip and was allowed a very limited set of motions.

 

Another wave of heat cursed through Hajime’s body as he remembered that Oikawa-san was planning to penetrate _him_ next time. Hajime imagined opening himself up for his master the way he has been shown today, then lying there and taking his master’s manhood in, welcoming it inside himself, being claimed by his master… Hajime imagined being tied to the bedposts by his hands, his ass still bright-red and blazing from a spanking he’s rightfully earned by disappointing his master before that, and Oikawa-san chastising him for improper behaviour. He’d forbid Hajime coming that day and then he’d proceed to fuck his servant ruthlessly, his thighs slapping punishingly on Hajime’s sore flesh…

 

Hajime almost jumped from shock when Oikawa-san’s voice cut through his daydreaming. Could he feel that Hajime was hard again? _Could he sense his thoughts?_

 

Apparently, not. Hajime tried to listen to the noble’s mumblings and could hardly suppress his surprised laugh.

 

“Oh, I need to spank you, Hajime,” muttered Oikawa-san under his breath. “No, don’t hide from me under my bed, silly boy. You have such a nice ass, it needs to be spanked regularly, needs to be kept rosy and hot. Oh yeah, lay down on my lap…”

 

Hajime just hasn’t had a chance yet to learn that his master speaks in his sleep. What a fine way to find out, though. Trying to calm his racing heart, Hajime looked at his master’s profile, visible in the moonlight. His master was gorgeous at any given moment, even while having his perverted way with Hajime in the dreamland.

 

Hajime’s master was beyond saving. And, to be true, so was Hajime.

 

What did it matter anyway? They were in love with each other; that’s the only thing that was of real importance.

 

Held in Oikawa-san’s embrace, Hajime fell asleep to the promise of a new tomorrow for the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, my pretty kittens!  
> What do you think about this story? Please, tell me in the comments!)  
> You could also check out my other fics in these series if you liked this one!  
> I'd be very glad to make new friends on Tumblr! [Maria-Falka](http://maria-falka.tumblr.com/)


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